


It (Doesn't) Happen Like This

by Draskireis



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Anxiety, M/M, Sharing a Bed, Unintentional Songfic, frenemies to lovers(?)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-11
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2019-03-16 18:44:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13642254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Draskireis/pseuds/Draskireis
Summary: Nursey's lost in his head on a roadie--thereby missing out on a nose game cue.  He and Dex 'get' to share a bed as a result.  Discussions ensue.





	It (Doesn't) Happen Like This

**Author's Note:**

> This fic brought to you by Amanda Palmer's Bed Song (quoted out of order and context, along with a coupla other songs of hers), insomnia, and these idiot boys not cooperating in the story I should be writing about them. I've already written the main roadie section for Backwards and Forwards, and this isn't it (and yet). Title because it's the iteration of Nursey and Dex from The Two Generals Problem and 'It happens like this' is a hilariously overused sentence in this fandom.
> 
> Hot off the presses and only edited to the degree that I've read it back over a time and a half before posting.
> 
> Enjoy!

Nurse was having an off day, but the sort that he wouldn’t admit to or accept help in relation to.  It was Dex’s least favorite stuck-with-Nurse-on-a-bus day.  Worse even than deflection-by-picking-fights or withdrawn-so-hard-he’s-imploded.  Those, at least, Dex could help with—by going with the fights or by low-key shepherding Nurse through the day or the roadie or whatever.  This style of Nurse was disagreeable when helped or pestered or ignored or… anything, really.  It had gotten him in an unfair amount of trouble before Bitty caught on who was the primary instigator of their shit.  The worst was that he was still insufferably pretty, even in a Mood as shit as this.

So, here they were.  Nurse staring out the window, huffing at whatever bullshit was on his mind—or possibly that Dex had (apparently) ‘upset the universe, bro’ when he offered Nurse the window seat in case the view might take said mind off of said bullshit.  It didn’t matter terribly to Dex—he could just as easily look out the window across the aisle.  He jammed his headphones on and started up his calm-yourself-the-fuck-down playlist, which was mostly just AFP from loudest and angriest to reasonably quiet, if still intense.

_My friend has problems with winter and autumn/ they give him prescriptions they shine bright lights on him_

He kept his headphones resolutely on as they crossed the border into Maine.  People would ask if they were near his home town, if he knew anyone nearby, if they could, like, drop in at his place for dinner instead of going to some diner near the motel.

Which, well, sorta, no, and _hard no_.

The University of Maine may be less than two hours from his house, but that meant nothing about knowing anyone.  Except, of course, that it was all apparently rural and small-town up here, and _naturally_ everyone knew everyone else.  Naturally.  Separately, it would be unfair all around to appear at home with _a whole goddamn hockey team_.  Like, his family knew he was playing UMaine tomorrow, which was fine.  Siobhan might show for it, which would be awesome. 

Imagine, though, dumping a whole hockey team and the accompanying appetite and behavior on his family—the surprise and the inconvenience and the _cost_.  Imagine, in turn, Bitty having to sit through fucking **James** and whatever show his parents might put on.  It might be enough to make Dex out himself just to get them to shut up.

Not likely.

Chiefly, Dex thought—mentally addressing himself as if he were an audience (like whenever he had to do public speaking or group presentations)—imagine how awful it would be for his own self, caught in between all of these forces.  And Nurse.  In a mood.  Probably chirping him all to fuck for the size of his family and its conservatism and its finances and...

_The pieces don’t fit together so good/ with all the breaking and all the gluing back_

‘You okay there, Dex?  You look like you’re thinking yourself into a hernia.’

Chowder had taken off his headphones and was looking down at him from the seat ahead.  He had on his concerned-and-loving face.

‘That… makes no sense, Chow.’

‘Ooooooookay.  Surname instead of hockeynym.  Must be serious.’

He stepped into the aisle and tugged Dex up from his seat.  Dex went willingly, although he had difficulty shuffling everything around.  He paused AFP, collected book and notes and pen (capped the pen), and dropped the collected pile on his seat as he stood up, with Chowder still tugging on him.  He got the window seat across the aisle, and Chowder slid in beside him, a goalie-intense glare around the bus at the no one looking their direction, just in case anyone noticed and had ideas.

Dex did not deserve Chowder most days.  Of this, he was sure.

‘You wanna talk about it, Dex?’

‘Not as much as you do, probably.’

‘You okay?’

‘Enough.  And yes, before you ask, I’d say if I wasn’t.’  Dex paused, not sure where to start—since they were apparently having this conversation.  He sighed.  ‘Catastrophizing.  Probably brought on by Nurse’s Mood and the proximity to home and, just, worrying about the team deciding, that dinner at Poindexter’s’d be a good or acceptable decision and all that.’

‘They would ne—’

‘Holster wouldn’t?  Really?  Like, Rans’d shut him down before even Bitty could, but he’d go there.  That is a thing that no one needs.  Think I worried myself into a shoulder cramp.  Are those even a thing?  Ugh.’

‘Face the window.  I’ll give you a backrub.  I give super good backrubs.  Wait—is it okay if I do?  No’s fine, too, but like—’

‘That would be great, Chowder.  Thanks.  Would it be alright if I put my headphones back on, though?’

‘Yeah!’

‘Thanks.’

Chowder did, in fact, give excellent backrubs.  Dex was nearly asleep, even with the discomfort of sitting sideways, by the time Chowder finished up with a couple pats to the back. 

‘Your back and a slab of granite have a lot in common.  Feel any better?’

‘Yeah, thanks.  That was really nice of you.’

Chowder grinned and let Dex get back to his music.  He settled back into the seat, unconsciously mirroring Nurse’s pose across the bus, and stared out at the passing trees.

_I stood there wondering what was the matter/ Is this a matter of worse or of better_

They got to the motel near the UMaine campus some time later.  The team had apparently gotten the last rooms in the place due to some sort of conference.  Lardo checked the group in and collected their room keys for distribution.  When she returned, she looked less thrilled even than usual.

‘Bad news, boys.’ Fingers flew to noses in preparation for whatever was coming.  ‘Two of the rooms only have kings, so you’ll have to double up.  Ransom and Holster, you’ve got one of them, because we all know you cuddle anyway.  For the other, nose goes.’

Nurse was the loser.  Of course: he was staring off into space, paying no attention to anything.  And now Dex suffered the consequences.  Fuck fuck fuckity fuck.  There was laughter when he cottoned to what was going on and realized he had lost the nose game.

‘What’s, uh, the forfeit?’

‘You weren’t paying any attention, were you?’

‘Nnnnnope.’

‘You and Poindexter get to share a bed tonight.  Congratulations, and don’t expect us to help either of you with body disposal.’

‘Oh.  Chill.’

It took every iota of willpower Dex had to not groan, sigh, or swear.  He did roll his eyes back in his head.

‘Careful, Pointy, you might sprain them if you do that too hard.’

‘Nurse, body disposal assistance or no, I will end you if you say another word to me in the next five minutes.’  Without sparing a glance at Nurse, he turned to the manager.  ‘Lardo, can I have the keys?’

‘Sure, Poindexter.  You kids have fun.’

‘This way, Nurse.’

They made a surly pair, brooding in silence on the way to the room, hauling their bags alongside.  Dex was glad to be in the lead, partly because he placed zero trust in Nurse’s directional skills and partly because that way he didn’t have to see the way Nurse’s back muscles shifted under his thin t-shirt as he walked.  And he had to share a bed with him tonight.

He was doomed.

They got to the room.  Dex got his usual side by the window; Nurse took the inner side.  They flopped their bags down.  Nurse took his toiletries into the bathroom without a word.  Shortly after he returned, his phone beeped in his pocket.  He pulled it out and showed Dex the timer countdown at zero.

‘Five minutes are up.  So.  Is this, like, a general homophobia thing, an internalized homophobia thing, or a specifically Dex-hates-Nursey sort of thing?  It’d be good to know what I’m dealing with here.’

Which, well.

‘The fuck?’

‘Your problem with sharing a bed.  Assuming that’s the world of options—an assumption based on not having managed to come up with any others—which is it?’

‘None of them?  Seriously, Nurse.  Do you think I’ve never—six children in a middle or lower-middle class family, depending on your definitions—shared a fucking _bed_ before?  No don’t talk over me, just because you’ve been in a fucking shit mood all day doesn’t mean you get to take that out on me like you do.  I have no problems with it that will in any way affect you.  I know you snore, but not as bad as Ryan did.  You’re probably cuddly as fuck, which—whatever.  I’ll survive that.’

Nurse looked leery, like he wasn’t sure he could trust that Dex was fine—the awkward (and likely) physical manifestations of his presumptively unrequited crush aside—with sharing a bed with one Derek Nurse.  Dex watched as Nurse nodded, still obviously unsatisfied and, outburst of temper finished, dialed his chill back up to maximum and resumed his silent Mood.

_You took the blanket, so I took the bedsheet/ But I would have held you if you’d only_  
_Let me_

Dinner was fun.  In the Dwarf Fortress sense.  Dex was already frustrated and stressy, and Nurse maintained his standoffish, silent Mood.  Everyone but Chowder (whom he continued to not deserve) seemed to be assuming, as Nursey had, that some level of homophobia played into Nurse’s silence, because clearly— _clearly_ —that was the only possible reaction Dex could have to sharing a bed with Nurse.  So now the Mood was his fucking fault, and not whatever bullshit was traipsing around in Nurse’s head. 

Nevermind that Dex’d come out to the team months ago.  Nevermind that there were still awkward references made to why they didn’t play Truth or Dare as much anymore.  Nevermind that Nurse regularly fell asleep on him on buses and on the toxic couch.  Nah—must be that Poindexter hates the gays.  No other _possible_ explanation.

Dex wolfed down his food once it came, like it was a race for seconds on a night Ma had made braised beef casserole.  He fished in his pocket for one of the room keys, and reached across the table to put it down beside Nursey’s plate.  Pushed his chair back and panned a glare across the assembled everyone before announcing that he was going back to his room—and leaving without paying attention to or responding to anyone’s reactions.

Once back at the room, Dex set about getting ready for bed.  Brushed his teeth, washed his face, set an alarm.  Did push-ups to calm down some and work up a bit of a sweat.  Beat off in the shower, after, with grim efficiency (how the hell else would he survive it if Nurse _was_ cuddly).  Got into pajamas and got into his side of the bed, AFP’s song about beds still echoing through his brain.  Decided that sleeping immediately would mean that he’d be extra pissy if Nurse woke him, and that wouldn’t be fair, so he got out his data structures book and started reading his assignment.

_You stretch your arms out and finally face me/ You say I would have told you_  
_If you’d only asked me_

Fifteen minutes had passed and Dex’s eyes were getting blurry when he heard the door lock turn.  Nurse slammed into the room, and Dex was glad that the motel had the doors equipped with the little piston things at the top to prevent exactly what Nurse had just tried to achieve.  Nurse was at least out of his own head now.  Maybe there’d be progress.

‘What. The fuck.  Is your _problem_?’

‘Hello to you, too, Nurse.  Good of you to check whether I was awake before staging your entrance there.  Care to specify what problem it is you think I’m having?’

Dex closed his book and sat up in bed.

‘Seriously.  Like, do I need to go snuggle with Chowder?  Is this that scale of issue?’

‘I told you, Nurse, it’s _not_ about the fucking bed.  It’s about your inability to ask for help or, in your mood today, accept it if it’s offered.  It’s you assuming homophobia is a root cause of this _made up issue_ about sharing a damn bed.  It’s you _not listening_ to me when I tell you that’s not any sort of issue as relates to you.  It’s your mood then being blamed on me by the **whole damn team** at dinner.  So, that.  That is the full set of my problems at present.’

Just one tiny omission there—the awful-on-several-levels awareness that Nurse was at least as hot blind-angry as he was in any other state.

‘Oh.  But.  You were pissy when Lardo was handing out keys.’

‘Because the bus ride was awful and being in Maine complicates everything—I spent enough time worrying about Holster deciding that Dinner With the Poindexters would be a _brilliant_ plan that Chowder staged an intervention.  That you didn’t notice, because of whatever headspace you were in.  _Because_ you didn’t notice any of that.  Because you didn’t notice Lards bearing the bad news that I’m currently lying in, resulting in our being in this room.’

‘Oh.’

‘And dinner was terrible, so I had to escape.’

‘You okay?’

‘Been better.  You don’t need to worry, like, about a panic attack or anything.  Venting helped.  Chowder helped on the bus.  How’re you?’

‘If I said chill, would you believe me?’

‘Only as much as I ever do.  If I asked what was wrong on the bus that had you in your mood, would you tell me?’

‘No.  Um.  Family stuff?’

‘You don’t have to tell me.  That’s why I asked the preliminary question.  You can if you want.  Is there anything I can do to help?’

‘So you got angry with me because you were worried about me today?’

‘I mean—sorta?  Also at being deemed at fault for your state of mind and suffering the consequences of your inactions.  But yeah.  You know I worry about people I care about.’

‘And that you care with terrifying intensity.  I just—um—didn’t know I fell into that category?’

‘Very.’

‘Oh.’

‘It is, as you would say, chill.  Go get ready for bed, Nurse.  We’ve got a game tomorrow.’

Nurse went through his evening routine, shucked his clothes and got into his pajama pants—fuck, he was _shirtless_ tonight.  Dex tore off a sheet of paper from the motel’s complimentary notepad to use as a bookmark in his textbook and closed it.  Nurse turned the lamp on his side of the bed on before getting in; Dex turned his off a moment after.

‘You sure you’re okay with this?’

‘Yes, Nursey.  Go to sleep.  Or read.  Or whatever.’

‘Only, earlier you said it wouldn’t be a problem on my end.  Or, rather, that you had no problems that would affect me.  I don’t actually want to cause you problems, Dexy.’

‘That’s good to know.  I hope you know by now that I don’t hate you, Nursey.’

‘Good to have confirmation of that.  Again.  Sometimes I wonder.  Sometimes I worry.  Also, you’re picking up my deflection skills, and I’m calling you on it.’

‘Please don’t make me do this, Nurse.’

‘Back to Nurse?  Daaaaamn.  Cold, Poindexter.’

‘Self-preservation does tend to make me spiky.  You know this.’

‘Deflecting again—and giving off warning signals, too.  Would it be so bad to tell me what the problem is?  You don’t have, like, a secret giant crush on me or anything?’

Silence.  Shock.  Doom.

‘Oh.  Oh, shit.  Dex, don’t freak out?  I can hear you freaking out.  It’s okay.’

‘No.  S’not.  I should go see if Chowder’d take me in for the night.’

‘No, you really shouldn’t.  I have an explanation as to why—it’s roundabout, but you might find it worthwhile.  Contrary to your assumption, I’m not normally a cuddly sleeper.  Especially with teammates and friends.  That whole thing with straight dudes who think that physical contact with a gay dude means either that you’re coming on to them or that they might—gasp—catch the gay.’

‘How awful.’

‘Right?  But, like.  You’re gay.  And you apparently like me, despite all behavioral evidence to the contrary.  And I—I like you too.  Um.  I just hadn’t wanted to make things awkward.  And then made a deflective joke that—does that count as it backfiring?  We’re like talking about feelings and shit.’

‘Feelings and shit.  Poetic.  And it totally backfired, since you wanted to make a joke to distract from your crush on me—and, seriously?  Me?’

‘Yeah?  Why not you?’

‘So many, many reasons.  But we’re not having that discussion tonight.  I am taking your declaration of a crush at face value.  To be clear, since I haven’t said it, it’s mutual or requited or whatever the right word is.  And if you feel like cuddling, then get over here.  But turn the light off.  I’m going to sleep.  We can talk about this after the game or something?’

‘All feelings’d out?’

‘Yes.’

The light went out, and Dex listened to Nurse rustle his way across the bed under the covers.  A hand went under his pillow, and another—surprisingly warm, a shock under the already toasty blankets—curved around his midriff.  He could feel Nursey’s breath tickling the hair on the back of his neck.  A warm body in close contact.  Dex snuggled back against his defensive partner and smiled to himself.

‘I’ll be big spoon tonight, but it’s not an always thing, k?’

‘Sure.  Whatever.  If you boner shark me in the morning, they won’t find your body.’

_But I would still love you if you wanted a lover_


End file.
